The Marks We Bear
by Marysia Amethyst
Summary: Set in 5th year, Draco is affected strongly by events over the summer holidays and Harry is in denial about something, H/D slash. Finished version at www.marysia.com
1. The Boy Who Was Different

The Marks We Bear   
by Marysia (Feb 2002)  
marysia@marysia.com  
http://www.marysia.com/  
  
Rating: will become more adult later in the story (probably)  
Pairings: Harry/Draco, Lucius/Voldemort  
Summary: Haven't a clue. This was started as a fun Harry and Draco romp and immediately transformed itself against my will into some sort of epic novel thing that I will probably never get finished.  
  
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Chapter 1  
Friday 12th Sept (1st week of school)  
  
There were lots of things that made Harry Potter different from everyone else. Most of those things were pretty well known. From the physically obvious like his scar and his glasses and his messy black hair to the fact that his parents were both dead and he had been brought up by Muggles. To the fact that he was the only person who had ever survived the Avada Kevadra curse, the person who had almost defeated You-Know-Who.  
  
But there was one thing about Harry Potter that made him different that nobody else knew. Not even his closest friends, not even Dumbledore... in fact most of the time even Harry didn't know this one. Denial isn't just a river in Egypt after all.  
  
Today was one of those days when denial was clearly running dry.  
  
Cause he could cope with it when someone caught his eye on the street, when his mind ran away in the odd fantasy, even with the fact that he occasionally developed crushes on a classmate or two... but this was simply unbearable.  
  
It had to be some sort of new found masochistic streak, some form of self-flagellation for some consciously but not unconsciously forgotten misdemeanor.  
  
Of all the people his subconscious could possibly have chosen to latch on to... why did it have to be Draco Malfoy?  
  
It was days like this that his Gryffindorian recklessness was particularly unwelcome. It made him want to do very questionable things like leap over his desk, knocking aside his cauldron and Professor Snape, and throw Malfoy down on the floor and kiss him then just sit back and see how he reacted. Or maybe just jump out of the nearest window and thus avoid the hideous embarassment of what might occur when he finally cracked from the pressure. That one was made tricky by the fact he was in a dungeon and there were no windows.  
  
He looked down at his simmering cauldron. Everyone else's potion was pink (except Neville's which was purple), his was vivid red with blue streaks. Perhaps he should just drink it and hope it put him out of his misery. Or at the very least deflated the hard on he had which seemed intent on doing press ups with the desk. Not for the first time he praised whatever Gods watched over hormone ridden school-boys that Hogwarts uniforms involved robes... nice, voluminous, loose, obscuring robes.  
  
How the hell Malfoy managed to give the impression of smooth, shapely shoulders and a really nice arse through them he had no idea. Why the hell Malfoy's arse had any effect on him at all he refused to think about.  
  
He looked down at his miscoloured potion and then up at the impending Snape and sighed, he really missed the days when Potions class had inevitably meant pairing up. At least then when it went wrong the blame got shared around a bit. Cause the fact that he had no idea what he'd actually put in his cauldron or in what order was definitely at least 50% Malfoy's fault.  
  
----------------  
  
So how had it started? Well part of it had happened on the train back to school when halfway down the aisle to the bathroom he'd come face to face with this drop dead gorgeous blonde boy who stood about an inch taller than him and had shoulders to die for. It wasn't till said hunk had opened his mouth to say,  
  
"Are you going to get out the way, Potter? Or will we be spending the rest of the trip standing here?"  
  
That he had realised the identity of the boy he was staring at. Draco Malfoy had put on quite a growth spurt over the summer, he must have gained an inch a month. And where had that tan come from? And those muscles? And had he ever even seen Malfoy in a t-shirt and jeans before?  
  
He had moved aside to let Malfoy squeeze past him and then stood there watching that arse walk away. He had definitely been in a severe case of shock. But he'd got over that by the time they got to school, reminding himself that he had a crush on Cho Chang and therefore did not need to worry about whether Malfoy was a complete shag or not because he was not gay... he was just going through a phase and besides it was Malfoy and Malfoy was most definitely the enemy.  
  
Unfortunately while Harry had been quite definite on that point Malfoy's memory seemed a little shaky. He was withdrawn, quiet. He rarely passed comment on anyone let alone insulted them. He spent more time in the library alone than he did with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry was half convinced that this new hunky man of mystery persona was designed specifically to drive him out of his mind. It was so much easier to ignore the way Malfoy looked when there were evil and unpleasant jibes coming out of his mouth.  
  
The Slytherins seemed as unsure as Harry of what they were supposed to make of this new version of Draco Malfoy. They had prodded a bit at him, kind of like kids prod at roadkill to see if it's really dead or not. But Malfoy was most certainly still alive and could bite if necessary. So they let him be. Mostly they ignored him and the power gap was filled by Blaise Zabini, but he really didn't have Malfoy's flair when it came to giving the Gryffindor's a hard time.   
  
Ron, too, had given it a go at fighting with the new-but-not-necessarily-improved Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had ignored his initial attempts and when Ron pushed farther had rounded on him,  
  
"Do you really have nothing better to do with your life, Weasley? Am I so important to you that you can't take the hint? I have no interest in playing stupid games with you so either come to the point or go away."  
  
"Touchy, Malfoy. Can't take the heat anymore I guess."  
  
"Perhaps I'm just bored of playing with matches, Weasley."  
  
Ron took too long trying to figure out if that was an insult or not and Malfoy simply walked away.  
  
Malfoy walked away.   
  
From an excuse to trade insults with Ron.  
  
If Harry hadn't been standing right there watching the exchange he wouldn't have believed it. Even Hermione was stumped and she usually had an opinion on everything.  
  
----------------------  
Draco's POV  
  
It's strange, walking through the school halls like a ghost or a condemned man. I don't have anything to say to anyone here and so I say nothing. I do my work. I eat my meals. I sleep. Around me they stare, they whisper or they ignore. They don't know what to say.  
  
It was interesting watching the entire power structure of the Slytherin House reform around my absence. For a week or so they were lost and confused and then they moved on. Me, I'm still lost and confused. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now that I've refused my previous role in this world. I feel kind of numb and aloof.  
  
I was so much a part of things in this school. Of the structure of things. In the Slytherin House I ruled supreme in my year and over all those below. I even had limited power over those above me thanks to my family. And I revelled in that position. I manipulated, I ordered, I wallowed in my power. All so I could feel important. So I could grasp that one thing I'd never been able to find. That one thing I envied above all in others. I desperately wanted recognition, praise, power and I sought it the only way I knew, through the belittling of others.   
  
God, I sound like a therapist. I've been thinking about this way too much.  
  
But aside from my school work what else is there to do? I have no real friends, just people who were dragged along by me to my own ends or who followed in my shadow.   
  
I'm making myself sound like some ex-Machiavallian genius, I may be quieter but I obviously retain my penchant for the dramatic.  
  
The problem is that all this quiet, inner turmoil is really starting to get on my tits. I want to move on but I don't know where to go. I'm desperately looking forward to the start of the Quidditch season, but that's months away and we won't start practicing in earnest for a few weeks yet.  
  
I want people to talk to, I want to have fun... I want to know why Harry Potter keeps looking at me like that.  
  
------------------  
  
Probably nothing would have come of any of it if fate hadn't taken a hand.  
  
It's funny how fate never seems willing to let things be.  
  
Harry could have quite happily ignored his lustful obsession until it went away or at the least he learnt a really good repression technique. But then how would he have found out the things he did and who knows what might happen if you remove a person from a story. With no Draco getting in the way... would things have worked out the way they did?  
  
Draco could have gone on in his new solitary role, getting far better grades than he ever had before and just getting used to being alone. Maybe in a year or so when people started to forget what an ass he'd been when he was younger he would have made a few friends. He probably would still have gotten himself disowned, but not quite as early as it actually happened.   
  
But what if's are infinite and unknown. This is the story of what is known, what did happen. And this is where it all started...  
  
On the quidditch field.  
  
---------------------  
Thursday 18th September  
  
Draco got up early, before the rest of his house, and headed down to the Quidditch field. He hadn't had much chance to fly over the summer and he wanted to get back in shape before they started practicing again. No need to make any more of a fool of himself on the pitch than he usually did.   
  
When he arrived he was irritated to note that someone else was already out there, swooping around the pitch and out as far as the Forbidden Forest and back. Looping and diving with an ease that could only be one person, Potter.  
  
//Perfect,// he though sarcastically.  
  
But there was more than enough room in the air for the both of them and if he left Potter alone he supposed the other boy would do the same. They may have spent the last four years as rivals but, unlike Weasley, Potter wasn't inclined towards starting trouble or petty mudslinging. If he didn't start anything they could both practice in peace.  
  
He climbed onto his broom and kicked off, taking care to steer away from where Potter was flying.  
  
Harry swooped round in a graceful loop de loop, revelling more than practising. As he came back level facing the Quidditch pitch he saw another figure flying up, curving away from him. Harry gripped his broomstick tighter, the irritating thing about Draco Malfoy was that there was never any mistaking him. He wasn't the sort of person you accidentally walked past without recognising or had to squint at unsurely if seen at a distance. There wasn't a single boy at Hogwarts as blonde as Malfoy, even his flying style was distinctive. A natural grace and ability hampered by over-thinking and a stiffness that only faded in the very few moments when he was truly caught up.   
  
Harry might not know Malfoy very well, but thanks to Quidditch he knew everything there was to know about how he flew.  
  
Without even realising he was doing it Harry began mirroring Malfoy's flight path. Always keeping behind and to the right of him where he could watch him but could not be watched in return. Once he realised what he was doing it became a game, more interesting than randomly wandering, trying to anticipate Malfoy's moves, holding their distance precisely. Then as they reached the pinnacle of a high swoop Malfoy turned into a sharp downward dive, hurtling towards the grass only a few degrees from vertical. Harry followed about 20 feet behind, trying to catch up so that they would pull up together at the same altitude. If Malfoy pulled up lower he might see Harry following him. But Malfoy left it a little too late, or else was going faster than he realised and as he pulled up the end of his broom caught the ground and the resulting jerk threw him off backwards. Harry was so caught up in watching Malfoy somersault back through the air that he almost did exactly the same and only his quick reactions and his slightly less break-neck speed allowed him to angle to the side and slow so that he tumbled harmlessly onto the grass in a cushioning roll. Unlike Malfoy who landed on his back and skidded across the grass for a few feet.  
  
Without thinking Harry scrambled up and ran over to where Malfoy lay. "Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Don't move!" He began running his hands over Malfoy's limbs looking for broken bones. "Does your neck hurt?"  
  
"Of course my neck hurts, everything hurts!" snapped Malfoy, embarassed at making such an idiot of himself in front of Potter.  
  
This snapped Harry back into awareness of what he was doing and he jumped back as if he had burn his fingers.   
  
"Right, yeah. Remind me to stand back and laugh next time."  
  
He started to back away, his face burning at the realisation that he had been touching Malfoy. Damned first aid training. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, after what had happened to Diggory and his inability to save him, learning how to save people had made him feel like he was doing something. And it had got him out of Privet Drive for a few hours a week.  
  
Malfoy's voice broke his train of thought.  
  
"Wait!" He was sitting up, wincing. "Wait, I'm.... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."  
  
Harry stopped backing away and stared at Malfoy in amazement.  
  
"You're ... what did you say?" he took a step back towards him.  
  
"I'm sorry. I was just... embarassed. I guess I was flying faster than I realised, I'm a bit rusty." Draco gave up on trying to sit up, it hurt too much. His entire body felt like one big bruise.  
  
It took Harry a moment to get over the shock of Draco Malfoy apologising. He walked back over to where the other boy lay on the grass.  
  
"D'you... need a hand?"  
  
"Actually I thought I might lie here until the world stops spinning."  
  
This kicked Harry's first aid training back into gear and he dropped back down next to Malfoy holding up his hand, "How many fingers?" After all a concussion might explain the apology.  
  
"Three. I'm fine, really. Just a bit dizzy and a lot bruised."  
  
"Still, you should let Madame Pomfrey check you out, just in case. That was a pretty impressive landing."  
  
"Don't rub it in," Malfoy groaned.  
  
"Sorry. Um... while you're... not going anywhere and everything... could I ask you something?"  
  
"I suppose. Can't promise you an answer though."  
  
"I just wondered... why are you being nice to me?"  
  
"I am not being nice to you!" protested Draco. "I'm just... not being nasty to you."  
  
"Well, okay. So why aren't you? Being nasty I mean?" asked Harry nervously. "I mean not that it isn't great and everything but it's... really wierd."  
  
Draco gave an odd smile. "Nobody likes change."  
  
"I didn't say I didn't like it... I mean... I was just wondering is all."  
  
"Let's just say I had an eye-opening experience this summer," he answered finally in a voice that implied further questions were not welcome. "So is that hand still on offer?"  
  
"What? Oh, right". Harry stood up and reached out his hand to help Malfoy up.  
  
"Thanks, Potter." Malfoy stood there akwardly for a moment then turned, retrieved his broomstick and limped back towards the castle.  
  
Potter watched him go for a moment then picked up his own broom and ran after him. "Wait up! I'll walk you back."  
  
Malfoy paused and started to look back but then groaned and dropped his broom again, clutching his hand to his neck. "Ow!"  
  
Harry picked up Malfoy's broom and tucked it under his arm with his own. "Told you to go see Madame Pomfrey," he said smugly. "You've probably got whiplash."  
  
Malfoy gave him a funny look. "I've got what?"  
  
"Your neck," explained Harry. "It's when your neck gets jerked too fast and it damages your spine and everything. I did this Muggle first aid course over the summer and I've been reading up on medical magic, I'm studying it this year. Here, let me see."  
  
Harry put both the brooms back down and moved behind Malfoy, bringing his hands up to his neck. He swallowed nervously as he allowed his hands to settle on either side of Malfoy's neck. "Try and hold your head still and straight," he said. Then he pulled his wand out of his pocket and, trying to focus on his task, incanted, "Reficio Musculis Vertebrata." As heat spread through Malfoy's neck he could feel the tight muscles under his hand relaxing.  
  
Draco actually moaned. "Gods, you don't realise how much something hurts till it stops. Guess you've got the touch, Potter."  
  
Harry tucked his wand back into his pocket and ran his hands over Malfoy's neck and shoulders, inclining his head forward and back. "It doesn't hurt when I do that?"  
  
"Nope, feels great. Don't suppose you could do my arse while you're at it?"  
  
"What?" Harry jumped back, his eyes automatically going to Malfoy's backside.  
  
"Now that my neck doesn't hurt anymore I'm becoming increasingly aware of what actually hit the ground first." Draco reached behind himself and rubbed carefully at his tailbone.  
  
Harry just stood there and gaped at the way what Malfoy was doing pulled his robes closer to his body. He was trying very hard not to think about touching Malfoy's arse.   
  
"I'm sure you'll be fine, you're just bruised."  
  
"But it hurts," Draco whined unconvincingly.  
  
Harry was glad Malfoy couldn't see the brilliant red colour he was sure his face had gone. "Don't be such a baby. Consider it a punishment for past misdeeds."  
  
Now Malfoy did turn round. "Nursing a grudge, Potter?"  
  
Harry considered his answer. Something short and rude came to mind but he settled for civility, "Not really, after all we always won in the end."  
  
Malfoy didn't look pleased with that. "I suppose you did," he said shortly. Then he looked at him with a piercing gaze, "My turn to ask a question."  
  
"Um, okay."  
  
"Why are you being so nice to me?"  
  
"Oh, um...." Harry floundered.  
  
"After all I've done to you and your friends... the detentions, the insults, that thing with the hippogriff... I wouldn't be so quick to forget." His expression was closed, giving nothing away.  
  
"I haven't forgotten," said Harry. "But like I said, we always won in the end. Buckbeak got away and we've gotten you as many detentions as you've gotten us."  
  
"I doubt Weasley and Granger would see it that way."  
  
"Probably not, but they have more reason to hate you than I do."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Hermione's always been just a mudblood to you and your entire family seems to have some sort of personal feud going on with the Weasley's... " Harry trailed off, all the insults and fights coming back to mind, the reality of which side Malfoy had chosen to be on. He gave Malfoy a cold glare. "You know digging up your past actions really isn't going to help you much in your quest to become a new person. I've suddenly gone off the idea of being anywhere near you."   
  
Harry turned and began to walk back to the castle, berating himself silently for being nice to Malfoy.  
  
Behind him Malfoy started to follow calling, "Potter, wait."  
  
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," he shot over his shoulder. "You'll need to do a lot more than stop insulting me for a couple of weeks and fall off your broom to get me to want to hang out with you."  
  
Malfoy drew alongside him. "I thought you said you weren't nursing a grudge?"  
  
"That was before I remembered why I ought to be."  
  
"And why's that?"  
  
Harry stopped again and faced off with him. "Because you're a small-minded, bullying, prejudiced, cowardly little git and your father is on first-name terms with the man who killed my parents!" he shouted. "You probably got that tan sunbathing in some Death-Eater resort where the evenings entertainment is torturing Muggles and plotting to take over the world! In fact I wouldn't be surprised if this whole being nice thing isn't some secret plan to kill me so that Lord Voldemort will give you a nice seat next to your Father at his evil wizards convention."  
  
Malfoy had paled a little at this outburst but when Harry stopped shouting all he said was, "I see." He held something out to him and after a moment Harry realised it was his broom. "You forgot this."   
  
Harry took it from him, feeling somewhat deflated now that he had done all that yelling.  
  
"Thanks for fixing my neck."  
  
Malfoy walked off and Harry stood and watched him disappear back into the castle.   
  
He hadn't had breakfast yet and he already felt like he needed to go back to bed.  
  
---------------------  
  
"I just wonder what he meant about having an eye opening experience," said Harry.  
  
"Who cares," answered Ron. "He's an evil prat. He was a evil prat before summer and he's still an evil prat. He's just an evil prat with a lot less to say."  
  
"It is strange though," said Hermione. "I mean he is very different. Maybe what happened last year had more of an effect on him than he let on. I mean he was always quick with the big talk about hating muggles and everything but talk's just talk. Maybe now it's all really happening he's realised it isn't so great."  
  
"Hermione," said Ron, disgusted at all this discussion of Malfoy. "Don't you remember what he said last year after Diggory died? Didn't seem very upset about it then, did he? Seemed pretty sure you and me were next on the list!"  
  
"I remember," said Hermione. "Of course I remember. But like I said, it's just words. If you can't get past stuff like that you end up like Snape."  
  
Ron shuddered at that thought.  
  
"Snape's one of the good guys though. I just wish I knew if Malfoy'd really changed for the better or if he's just... changed," mused Harry.  
  
"Well you said he's taking Muggle Studies this year, Ron. Rather odd for someone who's supposed to hate them," noted Hermione.  
  
"Know your enemy," retorted Ron. "That's got to be somewhere in the Dark Wizards Handbook."  
  
"And he's taking quite a few classes I'm in, he seems really different. No snide insults, no mucking about... "  
  
"I've said it once but I obviously need to say it again," said Ron in exasperation. "Who cares! He's leaving us alone, great. Let's leave him alone too. Even if he wasn't Malfoy he's still a Slytherin."  
  
"I know," said Harry, letting the topic drop but not ceasing to watch Malfoy out of the corner of his eye.  
  
---------------------  
  
After breakfast Harry headed up for their Defence Against the Dark Arts class, dragging behind Ron and Hermione and completely failing to notice the way their hands kept brushing against one another accidentally.  
  
This would be their 4th DADA class with this years new teacher, a very strict man by the name of Professor Hartlebury. Which wasn't good cause they had a joint class with the Slytherins and that always meant trouble. On the other hand it also meant Malfoy. Not that that wasn't just another kind of trouble, it crossed his mind that he might get better grades if he focussed more on the subject of the class than who he fancied in it. On the other hand his academic life was even more screwed up than his love life. He was stuck in 2 completely useless classes... Care of Magical Creatures was often fun but rarely educational and Divination was without a doubt the biggest pile of crap ever... and there was no point in dropping them now cause he would be too far behind to take up new subjects for his OWLs. Hermione was taking 12 subjects and he was only taking 9, two of which were a complete waste of time. At least he'd added Medical Magic and Spell Creation to his timetable this year which were bound to come in useful given his life so far. They were subjects only available at 5th year and up. He wondered what subjects Malfoy was taking. He knew he was in Muggle Studies with Ron and some of Hermione's classes but he wasn't sure which ones.  
  
He was last into the classroom and found he had a choice between sitting right in the front or sitting further back next to Malfoy but just in front of Ron and Hermione. Gritting his teeth he took the latter choice, he hated sitting in the front row.   
  
He sat down without even acknowledging Malfoy's presence and gave Ron and Hermione a pained expression.  
  
"Still nursing that grudge, Potter?" Malfoy muttered under his breath.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry hissed back.  
  
Professor Hartlebury set them to practicing advanced hex deflection techniques, supposedly able to deflect spells from wizards more powerful than yourself. It involved a lot of complicated wand waving. He prowled up and down the class studying their technique, as he reached Malfoy and Harry he watched for a few moments.  
  
"Very impressive, Mr Malfoy. Very impressive indeed. Perhaps you could give Mr Potter a few tips, he seems to be auditioning as a majorette."   
  
The Slytherins sniggered loudly but Malfoy just said, "Yes, sir."  
  
As the Professor continued back to correct Ron's exuberant gesturing Malfoy turned obediently to Harry.  
  
"You're using your elbow too much, it's all in the wrist, Potter."  
  
"I don't need your help, Malfoy."  
  
"If you want to survive being hexed you do."  
  
"Why, are you *planning* to hex me?" Harry flicked a little too viciously and his grip on his wand slipped, it flew through the air in a slow arc and hit the back of Millicent Bulstrode's head.  
  
This time the entire class burst into laughter. Millicent looked daggers at him and raised her foot to stomp on his wand, but before she could bring it down Malfoy muttered, "Accio wand." Harry's wand flew through the air and Malfoy caught it. "Maybe next time you should listen to me."  
  
Harry snatched his wand back out of Malfoy's hand, flushing slightly as their fingertips brushed past one another. "Maybe if you would shut up I could concentrate on what I was doing."  
  
"I thought you were bigger than that, Potter. I guess I overestimated you."  
  
"I'm just remembering which side I'm on. You know, the opposite one from you."  
  
"How terribly black and white of you."  
  
"I don't remember *you* ever leaving much room for shades of grey."  
  
"I am grey," Draco muttered, half to himself. "I stand between the darkness and the light."  
  
"You're nuts is what you are," commented Ron from behind them.  
  
"Stay out of this, Weasley," Draco snapped.  
  
"That is enough!" ordered Professor Hartlebury. "Since you seem to have plenty of time to talk I presume you have mastered the technique we are working on. Malfoy, Potter, to the front and give us a demonstration."  
  
Harry gave Malfoy a look of utter detestation and hoped like hell Professor Hartlebury would let Harry do the hexing as they trooped to the front of the class.  
  
"Mr Malfoy if you will attempt to hex Mr Potter, nothing too painful please. Mr Potter, let's see if your deflection technique has improved any in the past few minutes."  
  
Harry planted himself in what he hoped was a confident and intimidating stance and glared at Malfoy from behind his outstretched wand. What the hell had he been thinking, Malfoy was absolutely not in the slightest bit cute.   
  
In front of him Malfoy adopted a lazy, insolent position that exuded about twenty times more confidence than Harry could summon up. "Ready for me, Potter?"  
  
Oh, Gods. Definitely not cute but so incredibly fucking sexy. How were you supposed to concentrate when someone was looking at you like that? "Always," Harry answered, his mouth dry.  
  
In her seat next to Ron, Hermione was giving them both a very suspicious look.  
  
Then Malfoy let loose with a well aimed disorientation hex.  
  
Harry quickly tried to perform the complex wand wiggle Professor Hartlebury had shown them at the start of the class but his concentration was completely shot and Malfoy's hex went right past his gesticulations and hit him square between the eyes. He staggered back, then forward, then tripped over his own feet and suffered the further indignation of falling flat on his face in front of the entire class.  
  
Once more the Slytherins burst into gales of laughter, but this time the Gryffindors didn't join in. Though a few of them were stifling minor giggles.  
  
Harry opened his eyes but couldn't seem to focus on anything, something that looked vaguely like a hand floated towards him.  
  
"Need a hand, Potter?"  
  
Harry gritted his teeth and took Malfoy's hand, allowing him to pull him back to his feet. Unfortunately he immediately started to fall over again and ended up clinging to Malfoy as if his life depended on him as the classroom spun around him.  
  
"Still don't need my help?" Malfoy asked dryly in too low a tone for anyone else to hear.  
  
"Quit gloating and help me back to my seat," Harry growled, thankful that the disorientation was making him too queasy to enjoy the close contact.  
  
"Well I think that about covers Mr Potter's hex deflecting skills," remarked Professor Hartlebury. "Does anyone else think they can do a better job?"  
  
Harry sulked dizzily in his chair as the rest of the class trooped up in pairs to try. In the seat next to him Malfoy was smirking as if it was the most fun he'd had in months. Although Harry wasn't to know, it was in fact the most fun Draco Malfoy had had in months.  
  
---------------------  
  
That night Draco replayed the day in his head over and over, hoping that maybe this once he would be distracted enough not to dream about it again. Dreading the moment when he finally fell asleep. Strangely enough he couldn't quite figure out what had been best about today... getting one over on Potter in Defence Against the Dark Arts or the simple pleasure of physical contact with another person. Someone who didn't want anything from him, someone whose touch didn't make his skin crawl. Even with the later arguments, Harry's freely offered hand and gentle touch on his neck remained somehow untainted and comforting.  
  
But eventually he fell asleep...  
  
It was starting again. Just like every night. He felt it coming.  
  
The air grew cold around him, started to darken. Then he heard her voice.  
  
"Please, just let me go. I didn't do anything. Please."  
  
She was behind him and he refused to turn around and look at her. But in front of him his father stepped out of the shadows.  
  
"What are you waiting for, Draco, she's just a muggle? Time to practise what I've been teaching you."  
  
Draco tried to refuse but he couldn't seem to make any noise.  
  
Then the air grew colder and darker still and out of the shadows behind his father stepped Lord Voldemort. Draco tried to look away but he couldn't seem to move at all as he watched those white spidery hands stroke his fathers arms, the monstrous face whispering words he couldn't hear into his fathers ear. He tried to scream at them to stop it as his father leant back into the embrace. His mouth was open and he was yelling as loud as he could, he could feel the air coming from his lungs but no sound passed his lips.  
  
Then without his moving the girl was in front of him and his father behind. Her face was completely vivid in his minds eye despite the fact he had known her only a couple of hours. She was crying and looking up at him from where she was shackled on the floor. Just as she had been when he had first seen her. Naked, covered in bruises and blood.  
  
Inside his head he was repeating over and over, //Wake up, wake up, wake up...//  
  
"Don't go straight to the end," hissed Voldemort. "Try out the Imperius curse first, it's bound to come in useful in the future."  
  
Against his will he felt his wand arm raise.  
  
//I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...//  
  
"Imperio," he heard himself say. His voice was loud and harsh and echoed in his head.  
  
Behind him he could hear his father moaning and panting, his subconscious mixing events together.  
  
In front of him the girl was dancing, tears still running down her face. He tried to close his eyes so he couldn't see her but it didn't seem to make any difference.  
  
He was lifting his wand again.  
  
//No, no, no, no, no...//  
  
"Crucio." His voice crashed through his head.  
  
The girl was screaming now, her body twisting itself unnaturally. Bones seemed to be shattering under her skin.  
  
Yet despite the noise he could still hear them behind him. The slap of flesh on flesh, harsh groans...  
  
His wand arm was raising itself again.  
  
//No...//  
  
"Yes!" shouted his father.  
  
He opened his mouth to say the words ...  
  
He woke up to the sound of screams, his own. His throat in agony but his face, as usual, dry.  
  
He pulled himself into a ball, shaking, twisting his fingers into his arms where they'd leave bruises by morning. If he could just cry, if he could just cry the nightmares might go away and he could sleep. The books he read said it wasn't healthy not to cry but he couldn't do it, he didn't know how to start anymore.  
  
He glanced around the dark enclosure of his curtained bed, he had learned by now to put silencing charms on the curtains before he went to sleep. He felt completely alone. The previous day as far away as a previous life and the summer as sharp and vivid in his mind as yesterday should have been.  
  
It was a long time before he fell asleep again.  
  
---------------------  
  
Harry woke with a start in a tangle of sweaty, sticky blankets trying to grasp back at the fading images of the dream he'd been having. It wasn't often he woke in the night from something other than a nightmare and he was loathe to lose what few pleasant dreams he had.   
  
Moments into his mental replay of soft skin on skin his conscious caught up with his subconscious and reminded him he wasn't supposed to be thinking about that.  
  
//Oh, Gods. Not again.//  
  
It had been even worse tonight, with the sensory memories of Malfoy's cool hand and the soft skin of his neck and shoulders still vibrant in Harry's mind.   
  
He leapt out of bed and headed for the bathroom to clean himself up repeating his mantra.  
  
//It's just a phase, it's just a phase, it's just a fucking insane phase. I'm traumatised, it's some wierd left over psychosis from facing down Voldemort. *IT* *WILL* *PASS* *DAMN IT* Cho Chang, Cho Chang, Cho Chang, Cho Chang naked, Cho Chang naked on a broomstick... oh, Draco Malfoy naked on a broomstick... *FUCK!*//  
  
---------------------  
  
tbc... please send reviews, insults and comments 


	2. Making a Mark

The Marks We Bear   
by Marysia (Feb 2002)  
  
---------------------  
Chapter 3  
Thurs 25th Sept  
  
That morning at breakfast Draco recieved an owl from his father along with a package of food and other stuff from his mother.  
  
Making sure no-one was close enough to read over his shoulder he opened the letter...  
  
'Draco,  
I hope everything is going well at school. I hear that you are  
not yourself this year, I am presuming that you are following my advice  
to focus more on your duties than on your social life.  
I and our mutual friend look forward to hearing about everything  
you have been doing in the near future. I am sure we will find anything  
you might wish to tell us about to be very interesting.  
  
Lucius Malfoy'  
  
Draco crumpled the letter into a ball and stuffed it into his pocket. 'your duties', 'our mutual friend'... could his father be any more transparent. Was he under the impression Draco might have forgotten what he was supposed to be doing?  
  
He knew he was overreacting to the letter but still he wanted to grab his father and scream in his face to leave him alone. He had been in a good mood when he had got up. He and Granger seemed to be getting on pretty well now and he had Double Dark Arts this morning with Harry. He had almost been able to forget that he was stuck in the middle of some twisted plan to kill Harry Potter and take over the world.   
  
It was all so stupid. Take over the world... why? The world wasn't perfect but that was no reason to go over the top and try and take it over. Did his father really think that a psychopathic pervert like Voldemort would do better at running it than the people doing it now? Cause paperwork didn't really seem like something Voldemort was very good at and running the world took an awful lot of paperwork. Draco ought to know, he was studying Magical Politics & Law this year. Maybe his father thought that Voldemort would do the taking over bit and then he would do the running bit, end up with all the real power. Was that why his father let him... he didn't even want to think about that though. Wondering why reminded him too much of what and how and he suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.  
  
He pushed his plate away and carried his package back down to his dormitory, taking a moment to sit on his bed and feel sorry for himself before he headed up to class.  
  
As he walked up to the class, unusually late, he wondered if Granger had kept him a seat. She had said yesterday in Astronomy that he should sit with them again since he wasn't really getting along with the other Slytherins right now. He had suspected that the offer was actually part of some internal power struggle between her and Weasley but had accepted anyway.  
  
----------------------  
  
Harry had not had a very pleasant breakfast although it had probably been better than Hermione's. Ron was still not speaking to her and Harry, while not exactly mad at her, was not really in the mood to give her any leeway either.  
  
They walked up to Defence Against the Dark Arts in a stony silence. When they got there they sat down in a row with Harry in the middle, Hermione sat her bag on the chair next to her so no-one else could sit in it. Then she took out a small piece of parchment, scribbled something on it and passed it surreptitiously to Harry.  
  
It read, 'Did you get the stuff I left for you?'  
  
Harry scowled and turned the paper over. He wrote, 'I burned it. Why won't you just drop it?' and passed it back to her.  
  
She glared back at him and then picked up her bag and moved one seat down, plumping her bag on the seat between them. Her look said, 'Fine, be like that.'  
  
In return he turned his back on her and tried to engage Ron in conversation.  
  
"So, um... did you get that Muggle Studies essay finished yet?"  
  
"Yeah, I finished it last night. Where were you last night anyway?"  
  
"Oh... just about. Avoiding Hermione."  
  
"How come?"  
  
"Well... she'd just want to talk about the fact that you're not talking to her or else go on about her classwork."  
  
"Yeah, she's..." Ron broke off and started scowling.  
  
Following his gaze Harry saw that Malfoy had arrived and was coming towards them. In fact Hermione was beckoning him over. //Here we go again,// thought Harry. He thought Malfoy looked a little down about something and wondered what was wrong. Then he wondered when he'd started being so attuned to Malfoy's moods that he would even notice the slight signals he gave off that indicated what they were. Draco wasn't exactly an open book. Draco? Gods, where had that come from.  
  
Draco sat down in the seat Hermione was frantically indicating he should sit in and was about to say hello to Potter when he caught a look from him which clearly conveyed that while he, Harry, was quite happy to sit next to Malfoy and talk to him, now was really not a good time to do so owing to the fact that Weasley was about to blow a gasket and possibly take half the classroom with him if he so much as gave him, Malfoy, the time of day.  
  
Draco nodded his comprehension and turned away, pondering his increasing ability to read Potter's expressions. Not that Harry was hard to read but still. He guessed it was just familiarity, apparantly it didn't breed contempt after all. Who knew.  
  
Harry spent a rather tense couple of hours between one person he couldn't talk to and another who was too annoyed to string a sentence together. However about a half hour before the end of the class Malfoy leant over to take something out of his bag and slipped a note onto Harry's desk. Harry quickly hid it under his arm and glanced over to Ron to make sure he hadn't noticed but Ron was oblivious to everything, glowering at his notes. Harry opened up the note and read it...  
  
'Potter,  
Read up on Silencing Potions for tomorrow, Snape always tells   
the Slytherins what we're doing in advance.  
Draco'  
  
Harry looked over at Draco in amazement but he was looking the other way. He turned back to the note and let his fingers trace over Draco's elegant signature. After a moment he folded it back up and tucked it into his pocket. Then he tore off a piece of his own parchment and scribbled,  
  
'Snape sucks.  
Thanks,   
Harry'  
  
Trying to look inconspicuous he bent down to tug his sock up and dropped the note into Draco's bag. That certainly explained why even the thickest of the Slytherins seemed to manage better at Potions than the Gryffindors.  
  
----------------------  
  
Later that day things came to something of a head on the Ron front, though neither Harry nor Hermione were there to see it. That afternoon Ron and Draco had double Muggle Studies together, a subject neither Harry nor Hermione were taking. As a result they only heard about it after the fact.  
  
In the meantime Harry was stuck with Hermione for a free period and then Spell Creation and he had the horrible feeling she wasn't going to give up.  
  
However after a few swiftly shut down starts she limited herself to regular chit chat and dark looks that implied this was not going away.  
  
When they arrived at their last class of the day, Herbology, Ron didn't show up. At first they thought he was just late but apparantly not. Finally Harry leaned over to Justin Finch-Fletchley, who was also taking Muggle Studies, and asked, "Where's Ron?"  
  
"You didn't hear?"  
  
"Hear what?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Oh boy. Ron sat next to Malfoy and none of us had the faintest idea why until half way through class he leaps out his seat and starts yelling at him to stay away from Hermione and Malfoy tells him to mind his own business, then Ron said Hermione was his business and Malfoy said that it wasn't his fault if Hermione liked him better than she liked Ron..."  
  
"Oh no," muttered Hermione. "I can already see where this is going. Are they just in trouble or are they in traction?"  
  
Justin shrugged. "Both I think. Ron punched him in the face and then Malfoy hexed him."  
  
Hermione buried her head in her hands. "I am going to kill him. He sat next to Malfoy on purpose just so he could start a fight."  
  
"Was Ma... I mean... is Ron okay?" Harry asked, hoping Justin might cover the state of both.  
  
"I dunno... I didn't catch the spell Malfoy used but it dropped him like that." Justin clicked his fingers. "It was pretty neat actually. I never saw anyone draw their wand so fast. Dangerous little bastard. Anyway Professor Simmons had both of them out of there before we could really figure out what he'd done to him."  
  
Their hour long Herbology class seemed to drag incredibly after that, both of them desperate to find out what was going on. When class ended Harry and Hermione both raced for the Hospital Wing. They were met as they opened the door by Madame Pomfrey.  
  
"Now, now. Slow down there. Mr Weasley is going to be just fine."  
  
"Can we see him?" panted Hermione.  
  
"I'm afraid not, he'll need complete quiet for a few days. Now run along."  
  
"But what did Malfoy do to him?" asked Harry. "I thought he just Stupifyied him or something."  
  
Madame Pomfrey's expression turned very serious. "Malfoy didn't use any curse you children need to know about. Now go on with you... you can visit Mr Weasley in a couple of days."  
  
"You mean he used some sort of Dark Arts thing?" asked Harry, horrified.  
  
"I told you, run along. Professor Dumbledore will deal with Mr Malfoy."  
  
-----------------  
  
Draco sat in Professor Dumbledore's office under the stern eye of Professor McGonagall and waited. She had confiscated his wand and he knew he was in serious trouble. To put it simply, he was completely and totally screwed.  
  
The spell he had used on Weasley was not the sort of thing you found on the Hogwarts curriculum, strictly Dark Arts. He hadn't even known he'd cast it until it was done, his reaction to the physical attack so instinctive it had all been over before he realised he was even holding his wand. The words already past his lips... Disanimus.  
  
It was half way between Stupefy and Avada Kedavra, if not treated quickly it could kill. It sent the recipient into a coma like state, suspended between life and death. He had been drilled in it over the summer, obviously his training had stuck better than he'd thought.  
  
But he knew Weasley would be fine, he'd been treated straight away and Madame Pomfrey knew what she was doing. No, it was he who was in real trouble... and not from Dumbledore either. This could screw up everything. He had to convince Dumbledore not to write to his father... his father would still hear about it of course but chances were he wouldn't get the details or know what spell Draco had used. There weren't any other Slytherin's in his Muggle Studies class. If Dumbledore wrote to him his father might decide his cover was blown, that there was no chance he could accomplish his mission. Then he would be called back home... back to join Voldemort.  
  
The door behind him opened and Dumbledore entered.  
  
"Headmaster," said McGonagall. "I presume you have heard what occured?"  
  
"Indeed, indeed." He sat down opposite Draco with a serious expression. "Well, Mr Malfoy, what do you have to say for yourself?"  
  
This was it, this was his one chance to save his skin. It was time to suck in his pride and grovel. "I didn't mean it, Professor. I swear. I'll apologise to Weasley as soon as he wakes up. I'm really sorry. Please, don't tell my father."  
  
"Don't tell your father?" said McGonagall. "Should you not be a little more concerned that you could be expelled? Casting a Disanimus curse, and on a fellow student!"  
  
Draco's face drained of what little colour it had left.  
  
Professor Dumbledore studied him intently for a moment then said, "Thank you, Minerva. I shall deal with this myself and you can get back."  
  
McGonagall seemed surprised at being dismissed but nodded and left them alone.  
  
"Alone at last, Mr Malfoy. I don't doubt you have good reason for not wanting your father to hear about this. Why don't you tell me what it is?"  
  
Draco wasn't sure what to say. On the one hand he knew Dumbledore had been one of the few people able to stand against Voldemort, on the other his father and their friends had always painted Dumbledore as an eccentric, old fool. He decided to stick close to what Dumbledore surely already knew given what had happened at the end of last year.  
  
"You know who... what my father is," he began. "I'm sure... Potter must have told you that he saw him... that night. When..." he trailed off.  
  
"We are to speak frankly then, Mr Malfoy. That is good. Yes, I know that your father is a Death Eater. Hence my lack of shock that you would be aware of and capable of using such a dangerous spell. What I do not understand is what you want. Why are you still here at Hogwarts, Mr Malfoy? And what is your interest in Harry Potter and his friends?"  
  
"I... I don't know what you mean."  
  
"I thought we were going to be frank, Mr Malfoy. I am not so old as to be going blind, I am quite aware that you have been attempting to befriend Harry and Hermione. What I do not know is why? I would also like to know why you are concerned about your father hearing what occured today. I very much doubt he would shed any tears over the fate of young Ronald Weasley."  
  
"I... I can't tell you. Please... you can punish me any way you want just don't tell my father and don't send me home. I can't go back there. I promise you, I'm not trying to hurt Harry... I didn't even mean to hurt Weasley. It just happened so fast."  
  
Again Dumbledore studied him and it felt as though he were looking right into his soul. Finally he spoke. "There are things that you need to tell me Mr Malfoy... Draco. I don't expect you feel able to just yet but when you do I want to you to come to me. In the meantime I shall not inform your father of what occured. I shall, however, be confiscating your wand for the time being. However unintended your actions may have been the fact remains that you cast a very dangerous spell and I will not risk the safety of my other students until you learn to control yourself."  
  
"But my classes!"  
  
"Mr Malfoy! You will simply have to make do, I feel sure that you are talented enough not to let this hold you back. You will also recieve a month of detention and apologise to Mr Weasley."  
  
Draco nodded miserably.  
  
"Mr Weasley will join you for one week of that detention once he has recovered and he too will apologise. He is far from innocent in this matter."  
  
Draco's mood lightened a little at that.   
  
"You may go now, Mr Malfoy. Dinner will be starting shortly."  
  
Draco left gratefully and immediately went to his dormitory to write a letter to his father. Damage control against whatever might filter back home.  
  
'Father,  
I don't know if you heard but I had a run in with one of  
the Weasley boys today. Stupid git isn't reacting well to the fact  
I get on better with Potter than he does and he attacked me. I  
showed him though and didn't even get into that much trouble since  
Weasley started it. He won't try that again.  
Things are going well as we discussed over the summer. I  
had a nice talk with Dumbledore after the Weasley incident and this  
may allow me to become more familiar with him. I know you feel I  
should spend more time talking to my teachers. I am also making  
new friends among my class mates, I often sit with Potter and his  
friend Granger... hence the Weasley incident.  
I shall write with more news soon.  
  
Your son,  
Draco  
  
PS. Tell mother I said thank you for the package.'  
  
He sealed the letter and ran up to the Owlery to send it off before running down to dinner. Now all he had to do was convince Harry that what happened was Weasley's fault.  
  
Unfortunately when he entered the Great Hall and glanced over to the Gryffindor's he could tell he had lost most of the headway he had made. Granger gave him a furious glare but Harry's look was more betrayed than anything.  
  
------------------------  
Friday 26th Sept  
  
Draco spent a miserable morning. First he had Transfiguration which was completely impossible without a wand so he spent the hour at the back reading his text book while everyone else transfigured a piece of wood into a candle. Something that was considerably harder than it sounded since the wood had to not only look like a candle but burn like a candle.  
  
Then he had Arithmancy, something that should have been fine but for the fact that it meant facing up to the wrath of Granger. She was waiting for him when he arrived and bore down before he could even enter the class.  
  
"What did you do to him?" she hissed. "Madame Pomfrey said it was something awful. I know he started it but that's no excuse. I should've known better than to speak to you in the first place, Ron was right. He's worth ten of you! You cowardly, sneaky..."  
  
It looked like Granger was carrying a heavy dose of guilt over what had happened. He held up his hand. "Enough, I get the picture."  
  
"How dare you, I'll tell you when it's enough."  
  
"Look, I'm sorry!" he stated.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're right, there's no excuse. What I did was wrong and I'm sorry."  
  
Hermione stared at him in surprise and he took advantage of the silence.  
  
"I didn't mean to hurt him, it all just happened so fast. I did it without thinking."  
  
"What did you do anyway, Madame Pomfrey wouldn't tell us." Hermione seemed a little shell shocked by his apology.  
  
"I... I don't know if I should say. I don't think Dumbledore would want me to go around showing people that particular curse. I was lucky he didn't expel me."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"Confiscated my wand, gave me a month of detention." Draco shrugged. "Nothing I didn't deserve."  
  
"Right," Hermione seemed to pull herself together a bit. "Right, well... just stay away from us then. I think that's for the best, don't you?"  
  
"If that's what you want."  
  
"It is." And with that she turned away and entered the classroom.  
  
--------------------  
  
Harry met Hermione outside the Great Hall after Double Divination, which had been even more boring alone than it was with Ron there.   
  
"So, how was Arithmancy? What did Malfoy have to say for himself?"  
  
"He said he was sorry!" said Hermione, as if it were the worst insult imaginable.  
  
"Oh... well, that's good isn't it?"  
  
"Good would be if Ron weren't lying unconscious in the hospital wing. Actions speak louder than words, Harry. We should all steer clear of Malfoy, he's bad news."  
  
"Right," said Harry, meaning it and yet wishing things could have turned out differently. He felt... stupid. Stupid to have listened to what he had thought were his instincts but were most likely just his hormones, stupid to have believed he and Malfoy could ever be friends. He looked down at his potions book in his bag, he had spent last night reading up on Silencing Potions despite the events of the day before and his hand strayed to his pocket where he suddenly remembered he had tucked the note Malfoy had passed him. It was still there. He should burn it, along with those stupid leaflets that were still in his trunk. He'd do it later.  
  
Alone at the Slytherin table Draco ate sparingly, one hand idly fingering the folded scrap of parchment in his pocket, as he contemplated the potion he had looked up last night. If he was caught it would be the end of everything... but if he didn't do it... if he couldn't get close to Harry Potter he was of no use to Voldemort here. It couldn't hurt Harry and the results would be subtle enough to go unnoticed. In a week or so the effects would have completely worn off. But it would give him an edge, a way in and right now he could see no other option. The fight with Weasley had completely thrown him off schedule and he couldn't risk the weeks or months it might take to win back Harry's trust. Granger would follow his lead if he could win back Harry.  
  
He would decide this afternoon, in potions, and if need be steal the few ingredients he didn't have on hand.   
  
He waited for Harry outside Snape's classroom and when he saw him coming down the corridor he went to meet him.  
  
"Potter, can I talk to you for a minute."  
  
"I don't think that's such a good idea," Harry answered in a stilted tone.  
  
"I only need a moment."  
  
"What is it Malfoy? Come to apologise to me too? Hermione told me what you said to her and it doesn't change anything."  
  
"Potter, I didn't..."  
  
"Forget it, Malfoy. Just stay away from us. We're not your friends and we never will be."  
  
With that Harry stormed into the classroom and left Draco alone outside. //Well, that's that,// he thought. //I'll make it tonight and slip it to him tomorrow... somehow.//  
  
That night after dinner Draco shut himself in a storage room down in the dungeons and opened up his Advanced Potions for Mind Control & Alteration book. Something else Dumbledore would confiscate if he knew about. Luckily there was no wand required to do this. He folded down the page and ran down it before starting...  
  
' Subtle Potion of Influence  
  
This potion will subtly encourage the recipient to agree with your   
point of view (as expressed to them verbally within 24 hours of having  
administered the potion). It's effects last approximately 5-9 days   
(depending on the amount administered) with the strength weakening   
gradually so as to leave the recipient unaware that his mind has been   
affected. Depending on how much they were previously opposed to the   
beliefs pressed upon them they may or may not return to their previous   
mind set.  
  
The potion requires a personal token from both parties involved.  
Possible items are a piece of hair or nail, a personal item which  
has spent a lot of time in physical contact with the party or the  
parties signature. For an especially strong result blood is  
recommended. The potion will have no effect when drunk by someone   
other than the parties with tokens included in the potion.'  
  
Draco took a small scrap of parchment out of his pocket. On it was written...  
  
'Snape sucks.  
Thanks,   
Harry'  
  
---------------------  
Saturday 27th Sept  
  
The next morning Draco went up to breakfast with a small vial of light green liquid tucked into his pocket.  
  
At the Slytherin table he studied the Gryffindors, wondering if maybe he should try again to get Harry to listen to him without the potion. For a start he had no idea ho he was going to get him to take it anyway. What was he supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, 'Hi Potter, I know you hate me but will you drink this.'  
  
Just then there was a flurry of owls as the post arrived and his fathers favourite owl fluttered down to drop a parchment in his lap. He stared down at it and with slightly shaking hands opened it.  
  
'Draco,  
I recieved your letter. I hope you are correct that the Weasley  
boy will not interfere with your new friendships. Our business proceeds  
apace and I would be delighted to have you at home should things take a  
turn for the worse at school. There is much you could do here to assist me.  
However should things go well inform me immediately, I have a  
task for you on behalf of our mutual friend.  
Lucius Malfoy'  
  
Draco folded the note and tucked it into his pocket next to the glass vial. Things were moving faster than he had thought, he would have to use the potion. His father had all but stated he would be recalled home if he couldn't get close to Potter soon. A task... well he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now he had to get Potter to drink his potion. As he watched the Gryffindor's pouring out glassfuls of pumpkin juice from a large jug he realised how he could do it. He just had to figure out where Potter was sitting at lunch then make sure the jug for that section of the table had his potion in it. It would have no effect on anyone else and he had made quite a lot so the dilution shouldn't be a problem.  
  
----------------  
  
Draco lurked in the corner of the Great Hall and watched the Gryffindors file in for lunch, as soon as he saw Harry sit down he disappeared into the dark corridor behind him and sprinted for the kitchen. He skidded to a halt in front of the still life and tickled the pear until it turned into a handle. He entered the kitchen and headed for the Gryffindor table where the food was almost done being laid out. Just as he got there he was waylaid by a house elf in unusual garb.  
  
"Master Malfoy! What is you doing in here?" it asked suspiciously.  
  
Draco frowned at the creature. It was wearing a tea cosy on it's head. "I just came down to see what was for lunch, thought maybe I could snag some direct. Not really in the mood for socialising today." He turned back to the Gryffindor table.  
  
The creature actually grabbed his arm and tugged him back. "That is not your table, you should not be touching it."  
  
Draco turned back angrily. "Get your hands off me you disgusting little creature."  
  
Before he could do anything more a swarm of other house elfs descended on them, tugging the strange one away from him.  
  
"We is very sorry, sir," grovelled one. "He is not knowing his place."  
  
Draco eyed the struggling elf who was being drawn away, there was something about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "That's all right. I just wanted a little lunch in private."  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
As the house elves bustled off to fetch him a tray he turned quickly to the Gryffindor table and leant over as if to sniff the food laid out there. He quickly tipped the potion into the large jug of pumpkin juice and then stood up again. A moment later the food vanished, transported up to the Great Hall, and the elves returned with a tray for him.  
  
------------------  
  
After lunch Draco caught Harry leaving the Great Hall.  
  
"Potter, can I talk to you a moment. I really think you want to hear what I have to say."  
  
"Come on, Harry. Ignore him," said Hermione, tugging him on.  
  
Draco held his breath, had Harry drunk the juice?  
  
"It's okay, Hermione. This'll just take a moment, I'll catch you up."  
  
He breathed again, so far so good.  
  
Harry followed him away from the crowd. "What is it, Malfoy? I'm in a hurry."  
  
For a moment Draco hated himself for what he was about to do, but touching his hand to the pocket that held his fathers letter he gritted his teeth and spoke, "I'm sorry about what happened with Weasley, it was an accident. I didn't mean to hurt him." He searched Harry's face, looking for traces of evidence that the potion was working. He looked completely normal.  
  
"I know it was an accident, you're not so stupid you would do something like that in front of an entire class and a teacher on purpose. But it still happened, Ron punched you and your gut reaction was to use some Dark Arts curse on him. How can I trust you after that? What happens next time one of us does something you don't like?"  
  
Draco doggedly stuck to his planned phrases, "I'm your friend, Harry. You can trust me. You know you can."  
  
"I... I guess so," for the first time Harry seemed momentarily confused. "I know I can trust you I was just... worried about what happened."  
  
"Weasley started it, it was his fault. You shouldn't blame me."  
  
"I... I know. You're right..."   
  
As Draco's words went more against the grain of Harry's beliefs he noticed more of a glaze in his eyes, his words were more faltering. Draco suddenly felt slightly sick, in the back of his mind he could hear an echoing voice, 'Try out the Imperius curse first, it's bound to come in useful in the future.' With a faint voice he whispered, "You want us to be good friends, Harry. I want us to be friends too."  
  
"Yes, we should be friends. There's no need for us to fight," Harry agreed more easily this time.  
  
His face strained, Draco nodded. "I knew you'd understand," he said bitterly.  
  
"Hermione's still mad at you though," said Harry, seeming to adjust to his newly created opinions. "And I don't think you'll've changed Ron's mind any."  
  
Draco winced at Harry's turn of phrase. "You can talk Hermione round, if you explain she'll understand," he answered, his voice hollow.  
  
"What about Ron?"  
  
"I'll figure something out, he'll come around." After all he had done it to Harry, what did it matter now if he used the same trick on Weasley.   
  
Harry nodded his agreement. Yes, Ron would come around. Of course he would. "I'm going up to the hospital ward and visit him just now, I could try and explain..."  
  
"No! No, don't worry about it. Weasley has a right to be mad for a little while, it's probably best if you let it lie for now. Give him some time."  
  
"Okay, you're right. Give him some time."  
  
Draco felt his lunch churning in his stomach. "I have to go, I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Talk to you later," Harry called after him and then set out for the hospital wing feeling a lot happier. Draco and he could still be friends, Ron hadn't ruined it after all.  
  
Draco turned and fled to his dormitory where he threw up what little lunch he'd had. He spent the rest of the day there, lying on his bed staring blankly at the ceiling. He couldn't bear the thought of bumping into Harry again and hearing him parrot back his agreement with everything Draco said.   
  
After several hours he rolled over and dug his knife and some towels out of his trunk then tied closed the silence charmed curtains on his bed. He hadn't done this since he had come back to school but tonight he could tell this feeling wasn't going to go away unless he did something about it. He took off his robes almost ceremonially, his hands only shaking slightly, and folded them out of the way. Then he laid out the old stained towel over his bedspread and sat on it, he twisted the second towel and stuffed it thickly between his teeth. Then with a slow draw of breath through his nose he studied the inside of his left thigh with a practiced eye. //A new scar,// he thought. //This deserves a new scar.// He laid the edge of his knife against an unmarked piece of skin and drew it down slowly, letting it cut in deep enough to leave a permanant mark. As he cut he bit down hard on the towel in his mouth, the only sound he emitted was a strangled groan. Blood ran down onto the folded towel under his leg. One inch, two, three... finally he drew the knife away and sat with his hands clenched watching the blood flow. His mind was completely clear, all he could feel was the burning pain in his leg. He let it wash over him until the blood began to clot then cleaned up clumsily and dropped into an exhausted sleep. Dreamless, he never dreamed when he cut himself before he slept.  
  
----------------  
tbc 


	3. The Girl Who Knew the Boy Was Different

The Marks We Bear   
by Marysia (Feb 2002)  
  
-------------------  
Chapter 2  
Friday Sept 19th  
  
The next morning after breakfast they all had a free period and Hermione grabbed him before he could sit down in the common room. Ron was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"I want to talk to you a minute, Harry."  
  
"Um... okay, I guess. What's up?"  
  
Hermione led him upstairs to her dormitory, which was empty.   
  
Confused but curious, Harry sat down on a chair. "Is it just me or do I feel a lecture coming on? I don't remember doing anything."  
  
"I'm not mad at you, Harry. I just wanted to ask you about something."  
  
"Something that couldn't be asked about in front of Ron?"  
  
"Yes." Hermione looked nervous.  
  
"Well, fire away I guess."  
  
Hermione bit her lip. "I don't really know how to put this so I'm just going to ask you straight out. Just, please, tell me the truth. You don't have to be afraid to, I won't think any less of you, I swear. Whatever you say, you're my friend and you'll always be my friend. And if I'm wrong that's okay too and I don't want you to take offence, please..."  
  
"Hermione!" She stopped with a slight jump. "Just ask me will you, I have no idea what you're on about."  
  
"Right... right." She seemed to steel herself, then she looked him straight in the eye and said, "Harry, are you gay?"  
  
"What!" He leapt out of the chair, nervously stepping behind it and looking at her over the back. "Of course not! Why would you think that? I'm not gay!" But he was having trouble looking her in the eye.  
  
"Harry, please. You don't have to be afraid to say you are. There's nothing wrong with being gay."  
  
"I'm *not* gay!"  
  
"But..."  
  
"Why would you think I'm gay? I'm not gay, I'm not even a tiny bit gay. I fancy Cho Chang, you know I do! Gods, you haven't told Ron about this have you?"  
  
"Harry, calm down. Don't you think you're over-reacting a bit?"  
  
"Oh and what? That means I'm gay does it? I'm gay cause I said I wasn't! That's just great. I suppose if I'd said nothing that would have meant I was gay too!"  
  
"Harry..."  
  
"This is ridiculous, Hermione. This is a completely stupid conversation. I'm going back downstairs."  
  
And with that Harry turned and fled the room, but instead of stopping in the common room he headed on till he was outside and away from the school. Walking swiftly across the cold, dewy lawns towards the lake his head was buzzing.  
  
//Where the hell had that come from? What had Hermione seen, what had he done that had made her ask him that? Did he sound gay or something, had she seen him looking at a guy, at Malfoy? Gods, had anyone else picked up on it? What if everyone was thinking it and she was the only person who had the guts to say anything? What if everytime he looked at Malfoy they could all see exactly what he was thinking written right across his face? What if Malfoy could see it? They were probably all laughing about it. Potter the fag. Potter fancies Malfoy. Was that why Malfoy was acting wierd? But no, Malfoy had been acting wierd from day one of this year. He couldn't have picked up on it that fast. And if the Slytherin's knew they'd never have kept quiet about it.//  
  
But still, Harry couldn't face everyone yet so he spent his free period out by the lake till it was time for Divination. A thankfully Hermione free class.  
  
When he got there Ron was waiting for him. "What happened to you?"  
  
"Went for a walk."  
  
"Hermione seemed upset about something, did you two have a fight?"  
  
"No, I've no idea what she's upset about. I just wanted some fresh air."  
  
Ron didn't look convinced but it was time for class to start.  
  
---------------------  
  
At lunch Hermione was still looking at him a bit funny but she didn't mention their earlier conversation and Harry purposefully sat them facing away from the Slytherin table so that he could enjoy his lunch without any unpleasant distractions. However the upcoming Potions class was making him jittery, three hours of Snape and Malfoy... it was too much to hope that nothing bad would happen.  
  
He hadn't even sat down before things started to take another turn for the worse. Entering the classroom a little late, as usual, the three of them found little choice in where to sit. There were two seats together at the front and one at the back where the Slytherins, still a little uneasy at his personality change, had left a free chair between the rest of them and Malfoy just in case he should suddenly crack and try to take whoever was next to him along for the ride.   
  
Harry tried his best puppy dog eyes on Hermione but she was obviously still a little miffed about him running out on their discussion this morning cause she frowned at him then grabbed Ron's arm and steered them into the two seats at the front.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and headed for the back of the class where Malfoy appeared to be utterly absorbed in his notes and ignored him completely. //Which is just fine by me,// thought Harry as he watched Malfoy out of the corner of his eye.  
  
The class actually went comparitively normally after that, which is to say it was an unmitigated disaster as usual. Neville spilled half the things he touched, Snape took points off Gryffindor for the slightest error and Harry couldn't seem to read his own handwriting owing to the fact that sitting this close to Malfoy made his hands shaky and sweaty. As a result, half way through mixing his potion, Harry simply gave up and buried his head in his hands with a muttered, "Life really sucks."  
  
A dry voice from beside him spoke quietly, "And Potions doubly so?"  
  
Harry looked up from the desk. "What?"  
  
"Having an emotional crisis, Potter? Or are you actually as bad at Potions as Professor Snape would have us believe?" Although the words might have fitted Malfoy's old personality, the tone and expression on his face didn't. He looked vaguely concerned, if slightly amused.  
  
Not feeling up to an argument, Harry answered instead of telling him to get stuffed. "Can't read my own handwriting." He gestured at his smeared parchment. "Plus Hermione usually helps out a bit." He saw Malfoy glance down to the front of the class where Hermione was whispering something to Ron.  
  
"Where have you got to?" he asked.  
  
"Um..." Harry fished his memory and squinted at his notes. "I added the squid ink and the butterfly wings and let it simmer but I can't tell if it's meant to be for 5 minutes or 15 and I don't know whether I'm supposed to slice or dice... or possibly slit... the berry things."  
  
"It's 5 minutes... and the juniper berries are meant to be squashed."  
  
Harry looked at his notes again. "I must have misheard that bit."  
  
"Are you sure that disorientation hex has worn off completely?" Malfoy asked wryly.  
  
"Ha, ha." Harry hurried to squash his juniper berries before the rest of his potion over simmered.  
  
Sometime later as Snape walked back to his desk after checking the quality of the prepared potions, Harry glanced over at Malfoy again. He waited till Malfoy glanced his way then mouthed, "Thanks."  
  
Malfoy simply nodded as he gathered up his notes.  
  
As Harry joined his friends in the corridor he found himself desperate to discuss what had just happened with them. But there was just no way he was going to say anything to Hermione about Malfoy after this morning and talking to Ron about him was kind of like discussing magic with the Dursley's. Not very productive.  
  
So instead he stewed in his own thoughts. Maybe Malfoy was just trying to balance out the score after Harry had fixed his neck. He'd tried to help him in class yesterday as well. Maybe now that he'd actually done so he'd consider the debt paid and stop talking to him again.  
  
But what if that wasn't it. What if his fixing Malfoy's neck had started some sort of chain reaction? What if Malfoy wanted them to be friends? The problem with that was while Harry knew that he shouldn't want them to be friends he inexplicably found himself very happy at the thought. Mind you the image his brain conjured up of him and Malfoy being friends seemed to involve an awful lot of wandering around holding hands and gazing deeply into each others eyes. He groaned aloud and slapped himself across the face a couple of times.  
  
"Harry, are you feeling all right?" asked Hermione.  
  
Startled, having completely forgotten he was walking with Hermione and Ron, Harry looked round at them. "Oh, yeah. Just... how do you know if you're losing your mind?"  
  
"That depends," answered Ron. "Do you see little pixies that tell you to kill your friends?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother asking you anything."  
  
"Ignore him." Hermione flashed Ron a look. "What's bothering you?"  
  
Hermione had her curious face on again and Harry had a flash of panic. "Um, nothing. Really. Just tired, feeling a bit off colour today. That's all."  
  
"Having to sit next to Malfoy for three hours would make me feel off colour too," said Ron. "We really have to start getting to class earlier."  
  
The rest of the evening, and indeed that weekend, passed quite peacefully. No classes, no Malfoy and Hermione kept her akward questions to herself. For a few days Harry could almost imagine everything was back to normal.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Draco mostly spent his weekend in the Library. He liked it in the Library... people kept to themselves in the Library and left him room to think. The Slytherin common room was too draining and annoying, in fact he was really growing to despise it. All that tacky plotting and sniping over nothing. Plus it was really damp and cold down there unless you were right on top of the fire.  
  
But the state of the Slytherin common room was not foremost in his mind. Harry Potter was foremost in his mind. He had convinced Voldemort that he could be useful at school, getting close to Potter and listening out for any news as to what Dumbledore was planning. Voldemort knew Dumbledore wouldn't sit idle no matter what the Ministry for Magic ordered. He figured he had a few weeks before they would expect him to produce anything useful but in the meantime he had to make it look like he was doing the job. The gossip of the other Slytherins with Death-Eaters in the family would make sure most of what he did got back to Voldemort eventually.  
  
There was only one problem.  
  
Even though Draco knew he was supposed to be cozying up to Potter he suddenly found that he didn't just want to fake it, he really did want to get to know Potter better. And for some reason that made him intensely uncomfortable about the whole thing.  
  
Pretending to be someone's friend was something Draco had a great deal of experience in, he couldn't think of a single "friend" he'd had that didn't irritate the hell out of him. He didn't make friends because he liked people... or at least he never had in the past. He'd made friends as his father had instructed him or as had suited him in his social climbing. The thought of hanging around with someone because he actually wanted to was slightly intimidating. He felt as if it might give that other person too much power over him.  
  
What if he got too used to having Potter around? What if he had to turn him over to Voldemort... not that he wanted to, he didn't want to do anything that involved Voldemort, but what if there was no choice, what if it was him or Potter? Would he still be able to do it if he was Potter's friend? Potter's other friends were forever putting themselves in danger over him. Mind you he always saved them, maybe he would save Draco too. He felt a painful, hopeful ache inside of him. He could imagine Potter doing that, saving him. Even after everything he'd said, everything he'd done to put them down and raise himself up. It was just the sort of thing Harry would do.  
  
Harry... he'd never thought of him as Harry before.  
  
He'd hated him because his father had hated him... because everybody always talked about him... because his father always treated his every gain as proof of Draco's weakness... because he'd looked down on him from almost the first moment they met. Refusing the hand he'd offered him. He'd come to him as an equal and Harry had looked at him like he was scum.  
  
Of course that was when he still believed every word his father said, looked up to his father, tried desperately to be everything his father wanted him to be. Now he saw his father in an entirely new light... his father was scum... deluded, power-mad and twisted and the words he'd said to Harry that day in Madame Malkin's and later on the Hogwarts Express had been his fathers words. Harry had been right to look at him in disgust.  
  
But now... Harry had said, that day on the Quidditch field, that it would take more than a few insult free weeks and a broom accident to change anything. He wondered what it would take. Somehow he felt that Harry wanted this too, that he only fell back into old dislikes when reminded. Like his instincts were against his learned behaviours. Draco prided himself on being an excellent judge of behaviour and body language and somehow he was sure that Harry wanted them to be friends as much as he suddenly found he did.  
  
So he was just going to have to get over this silly discomfort over the idea of actually liking someone and figure out how to go about getting them to like him back.  
  
Mind you the really odd thing was that the image his brain was conjuring up of him and Harry being friends seemed to involve an awful lot of wandering around holding hands and gazing deeply into each others eyes.   
  
He really was going to have to worry about that sometime when he wasn't worrying about everything else.  
  
-----------------------  
Tuesday 23rd Sept  
  
Tuesday was what Harry referred to as his lazy day, despite Hermione's nagging that free periods were for studying in not sleeping through. Both he and Ron had all morning free and as a result they could sleep till lunch while Hermione was in double Ancient Runes and Elemental Magical Theory. She invariably tried to wake them up for breakfast but was never successful. Harry and Ron had a lot of free time compared to Hermione who was taking 12 OWLs this year.  
  
They met her at lunch looking very well rested while she looked flustered and tired. They had a bet on as to whether she would have a nervous breakdown before or after the Christmas holidays, Ron was betting on before but Harry figured she'd hold it together till just before exam time... then she'd crack and transfigure all her teachers into field mice before running off to join a commune. It wasn't just that she was taking 12 OWLs, it was that she was taking 12 pretty difficult OWLs and seemed determined to get 250% in all of them.  
  
Harry was looking forward to simply passing his nine subjects.  
  
As Hermione ate her lunch distractedly while reading a text book and Ron chatted to Ginny about her day Harry allowed his eyes to wander to the Slytherin table and Draco Malfoy. Someone he had avoided looking at since last Friday. However with Defence Against the Dark Arts coming up again this afternoon his mind was turning again to the events of last week.  
  
Malfoy was sitting alone as usual, not in a dejected way though. When he sat alone he seemed to give off this vibe that said, 'I choose to sit alone because I'm too good to sit with any of you plebs.' He ate with a strange mixture of efficiency and enjoyment, as if he really loved to eat but he wouldn't lower himself to show it too much. He was reading a text book too, but unlike Hermione he seemed to be able to do it without missing his mouth. Hermione kept jabbing herself in the cheek with her fork.  
  
Harry envied his poise, just looking at Draco Malfoy made him feel like a scruffy, grubby, insecure child. It was both irritating and entrancing. Oh Gods... he'd just called Malfoy entrancing. Well, at least it had been paired with irritating. One step forward and one step back. And now we're dancing... oh dear. Dancing with Malfoy... slow dancing with Malfoy. Harry thumped his head against the table, eliciting concerned looks from Ron and Ginny. If this was what happened to his brain when he looked at Malfoy he was going to have to stop doing it again. Maybe he could eat with his glasses off, he didn't need them just to eat... unless he wanted to know what he was eating *before* he put it in his mouth that was.  
  
Transfiguration and Medical Magic seemed to flash past and it was time for Defense Against Dark Arts before he knew it. Ron met him outside his Medical Magic class and walked him up, as they entered they were both amazed to see Hermione sitting next to Draco Malfoy and talking animatedly.  
  
Harry headed over to join them, they were holding a seat on either side of them and when he got there Malfoy moved down leaving the seats either side of Hermione free.  
  
"Potter," he acknowledged.  
  
"Hi, Harry," said Hermione. "You better sit on this side, I don't think putting Ron next to Malfoy would be wise." Harry sat down between Hermione and Malfoy with a bemused expression on his face. "Where is Ron anyway?" she asked.  
  
Harry looked around. "He was right..." He spotted Ron still standing in the doorway looking extremely annoyed. "Hey, Ron. Come and sit down."  
  
Ron bore down on them a little like a charging red-haired rhinocerous. He gave Malfoy a thoroughly hateful look and then hissed at Hermione, "What the hell are you doing talking to him?"  
  
Hermione was unswayed by his tone. "We just came from History of Magic. He walked me down, I asked him to help me save a couple of seats," she answered primly.  
  
As they continued bickering Harry looked over at Malfoy to see what his reaction was to this. He was staring at the blackboard with a bored expression, twirling his pencil between his fingers. It suddenly hit Harry that this was an act. He stared harder at the boy next to him trying to see through the front and figure out what he was really thinking but before he got anywhere Malfoy sensed his intense stare and turned around.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Um... nothing. I just..." Harry fished for a conversation topic. "I didn't know you took History with Hermione."  
  
Malfoy shrugged elegantly. "We have Arithmancy and Astronomy together too."  
  
"Oh... um... how many subjects are you taking this year?" This was easier than he had expected and talking seemed to take his mind off thinking about... damn, almost anyway.  
  
"Twelve, what about you?"  
  
Harry felt very stupid all of a sudden. "Just nine."  
  
Malfoy seemed to sense his embarrassment. "I guess you have a lot of other stuff to worry about though, Quidditch and stuff."  
  
"You have Quidditch too," Harry reminded him.  
  
"Yeah." Malfoy's expression seemed to darken.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing." Malfoy looked at the door as if hoping the teacher would walk in.  
  
"I may be better than you at Quidditch but you're still pretty good," Harry told him, assuming his expression was something to do with Harry always beating him in Quidditch.  
  
"Don't say that!" Malfoy seemed upset, he didn't raise his voice but his speech became much more intense. "My father bought my way onto that team and we both know it."  
  
"You would have got there yourself eventually," Harry told him, wondering why he was being nice to Malfoy again. Probably something to do with the fact that Malfoy was still being nice to him. It was really difficult to keep up this sworn enemies thing when neither side was doing any fighting, and Hermione wasn't helping any. Mind you, by the sound of the argument next to him, Ron was willing to keep it up for all four of them.  
  
Just then Professor Hartlebury arrived and all conversation ceased as he began to discuss today's class.  
  
-----------------------  
Wed 24th Sept  
  
That morning at breakfast Harry sat in between Ron and Hermione. Strangely, despite the fact that he had also been talking to Malfoy, it was Hermione alone that Ron was not speaking to.  
  
Mind you that was probably because during their argument Hermione had called Ron close-minded and immature and had insinuated that he was acting more like the old Draco Malfoy than Malfoy was.  
  
Ron hadn't taken that very well and had told her she was being a silly cow and insinuated that she was only being nice to Malfoy because she wanted into his pants which he, Ron, thought was absolutely revolting.  
  
It had kind of devolved from there.  
  
Harry had gotten a blow by blow replay last night from Ron in high dudgeon about it all. He had listened politely and commiserated appropriately and wondered how he was going to reconcile the fact that he was ecstatically happy at having exchanged a few polite words with Malfoy with the fact that Ron was his best friend and he didn't want that to change. He understood Ron's attitude... well he sort of did, Ron did seem to be getting very over-wrought over one conversation. But he knew he should be against being nice to Malfoy simply on principle. Somehow he just couldn't summon up the passion Ron had for hating Malfoy any more, all his passions seemed to be pointing him in another direction.  
  
Hermione, if Harry knew her and he did, was probably in stubborn mode now. She'd make friends with Malfoy just to spite Ron, just to prove a point.  
  
There was no doubt about it, this was going to get very messy.  
  
As Malfoy walked into the Great Hall Harry actually heard Ron growl.  
  
The day went on with Harry playing go between through Care of Magical Creatures. Then he and Hermione had Spell Creation together without Ron and he had a chance to talk to her alone.  
  
"So are you and Ron going to keep this up all week?" he asked her.  
  
"Don't ask me," she sniffed. "Ask Ron, he's the one being an idiot."  
  
"Uh-huh. So what were you and Malfoy talking about yesterday anyway?"  
  
"Just class. I was curious about him after what you said last week and I thought I'd talk to him and see if he had changed?"  
  
"And?"  
  
"He's not easy to talk to," she said thoughtfully. "About anything personal anyway. When I got him talking about class he was fine but trying to get anything else out of him was impossible. He'd go all monosyllabic and clam up. But he was... pleasant. Polite. It was kind of nice, he's so different from the other boys in our year."  
  
"I'm beginning to worry Ron might be right about you fancying him," Harry joked nervously. He had sudden paranoid visions of Hermione and Malfoy becoming an item and him having to hang around with them pretending he thought it was great.  
  
"Oh for goodness sake, Harry, don't you start. I'm not attracted to Malfoy, I'm just curious. And he's pretty smart, it's nice to talk to someone who's actually interested in their classes." Her 'unlike you and Ron' was left implied. "We have History and Astronomy together this afternoon and I'm certainly not going to ignore him just because Ron thinks everything revolves around sex."  
  
"I know. It doesn't bother me if you want to talk to him."  
  
"What were you taking to him about yesterday? I couldn't hear for Ron yelling at me."  
  
"Nothing much. Although... he was kinda wierd when Quidditch came up. He actually admitted that his father had bought his way onto the team, he seemed kind of upset that I thought he was a good flyer."  
  
"You told him you thought he was a good flyer?" asked Hermione, a little surprised.  
  
"I did say I was still better than him. But that's not the point. He was being really... I dunno... sensitive? It was wierd. He seemed to pick up that I was embarrassed he was taking more subjects than me and he was trying to make me feel better about it. The guy is acting really strange."  
  
"He certainly is... and speaking of people acting strange," said Hermione. "We still need to finish that conversation we started last week."  
  
"We did finish that conversation," said Harry firmly.  
  
"Don't be like that, Harry."  
  
"Drop it, Hermione, class is starting." It was a cheap trick but if anything could distract Hermione it was the sultry siren song of academia.  
  
After that they had Transfiguration then lunch then Charms, all with Ron, meaning Hermione didn't have another opportunity to speak to him alone until after dinner.  
  
When Harry saw her bearing down on him with an intent look he quickly scarpered and spent the rest of the evening hiding from her. However when he got back to his dormitory that night there was a large manilla envelope on his bed with 'Harry' written across it in Hermione's handwriting.  
  
He opened it up cautiously and pulled out the contents. On the top was a handwritten parchment...  
  
'Harry,  
  
I really wish you would let me talk to you about this   
because I'm sure it would make you feel a lot better about  
things. You don't have to hide the fact that you are gay from   
me, it is nothing to be ashamed about and I'm sure everyone  
would be very supportive. You don't have to worry about anyone  
else knowing, it is up to you to tell them when you are ready.  
I started to figure it out last year but I wasn't sure till I  
saw how you reacted when I asked you about it. I have enclosed   
some reading material for you. I hope after you have looked at   
it you feel you can come to me about all this.  
  
Your friend,  
Hermione'  
  
Harry lifted off the parchment and gazed in horror at the pile of leaflets in his hands, reading the titles. 'I'm Gay and I'm Okay', 'Wizards Have Feelings Too', 'Coping With Being a Gay Teenage Wizard', '50 Ways to Come Out to Your Friends & Family', 'Everything You Wanted To Know About Being A Gay Wizard But Were Afraid To Ask', 'So I'm Gay, What Does That Mean?', 'Gay Sex... The Things You Need To Know'.  
  
He stared wide-eyed at that last one... there were things he needed to know? His hand hovered over the front page as he wondered whether there were moving pictures inside. Then Ron's voice broke into his hypnotic state.  
  
"What is that stuff?"  
  
Startled, Harry almost threw the entire pile of leaflets up in the air. Which would have been a disaster of epic proportions. Thankfully he managed to keep a grip on them and quickly stuffed them all back into the envelope.  
  
"Nothing. Just Hermione trying to get me interested in more classes. You know what she's like."  
  
The mention of Hermione was more than enough to distract Ron from the envelope, which he hastly stuffed into the very bottom of his trunk. When he got the chance he'd burn it.  
  
That night he couldn't get to sleep. Partly because he'd slept till lunchtime that day and partly because he was desperately curious to know what it was he needed to know about gay sex. Not that he was ever going to have gay sex cause he wasn't gay, but that didn't mean he wasn't curious about what was in the leaflet. Just for knowledge's sake and all that.  
  
Eventually he gave in and quietly dug the envelope back out of his trunk then retreated to his bed and lit his wand to take a look.  
  
He opened up 'Gay Sex... The Things You Need To Know', bracing himself for any moving pictures he might find, only to see nothing but screeds of text and flashy headlines. 'Don't Know? Go Slow!', 'Archaic Laws You Need to Know About', 'AIDS: Not Just the Muggle Plague', 'Condoms v Protection Spells', 'Oral Sex is not Safe Sex'.  
  
Fighting the temptation to throw them all back in his trunk Harry glanced over the first few sections...  
  
'Don't Know? Go Slow!  
  
Just because you're gay doesn't mean you should feel pressurised into having sex straight away. Plenty of gay couples take their time or don't have sex at all. Try just holding hands and kissing. If your partner asks you to do something you feel uncomfortable about Just Say No.'  
  
Harry skipped ahead to the next section...  
  
'Archaic Laws You Need to Know About  
  
There are many laws that apply to homosexual acts in the Wizarding   
community. As you may know the Wizarding Age of Consent is 15,   
however that does not apply to homosexual couples. The Homosexual   
Age of Consent is 21 despite many attempts over the past few   
decades to lower it to 18. The standard sentence for breaking the   
Age of Consent Law is ten years in Azkhaban, this may be commuted   
to five years in cases where the age difference is minimal. Other   
laws you should be aware of appear in the 1659 Order of Common   
Decency Act. This act makes it illegal to commit homosexual acts   
in any location other than your official place of residence. It   
also states that if you are seen commiting homosexual acts by a   
third party, even if you are within your official place of   
residence at the time, you have commited a crime. Test cases have   
proven that an animal, house elf or even a ghost can be considered   
a third party.'  
  
By this point Harry had read more than enough. He wasn't even entirely sure what a homosexual act was but by the looks of things doing anything about his perverse fantasies would get him thrown in Azkhaban quicker than he could say 'but I'm not gay'. Which he wasn't, so of course it didn't really matter. Thank God for that.  
  
Harry lay awake for a long time after putting the leaflets away again.  
  
----------------------  
tbc 


	4. Breaking Barriers

The Marks We Bear   
by Marysia (Feb 2002)  
  
---------------------  
Chapter 4  
Saturday 27th Sept cont  
  
Harry met Hermione outside the door to the hospital wing where she was waiting for him.  
  
"What did Malfoy want you for?" she asked.  
  
"Same as he said to you. He wanted to apologise."  
  
"You should have told him to get stuffed, Harry. I thought we were going to stay away from him."  
  
"I know, but I thought I should hear him out. I mean what he did to Ron wasn't good, but he didn't mean it and Ron did start the fight."  
  
"Harry! He could have killed him!"  
  
"It was a mistake, if I stopped speaking to people every time they made a mistake I wouldn't have any friends left. Ginny nearly killed us all in second year and we forgave her."  
  
"She was being controlled by You-Know-Who, Harry!"  
  
"I know, look maybe that was a bad example. I just mean... everyone deserves a second chance, even Malfoy. He said he was sorry and that he wanted us to be friends and I believe him."  
  
"Are you sure, Harry? I thought we *were* giving Malfoy a second chance and as far as I'm concerned he failed it."  
  
"Well, maybe you could consider this a re-sit of his second chance?"  
  
"I just don't understand why you're bothering?"  
  
"Cause he asked me to. Cause he's been nothing but friendly to me all term and I'm not going to let a stupid fight that Ron started make up my mind for me."  
  
"Well, it's up to you, Harry. I won't try and stop you but I don't particularly want to spend any more time around him and I very much doubt Ron's going to like it. Is Malfoy really worth losing one of your best friends over?"  
  
"Ron'll come around, it'll just take a little time. That's all."  
  
Hermione shook her head in concern. "Just don't say anything about Malfoy to him, please."  
  
"Course not, I'm not stupid."  
  
Hermione looked as if she thought otherwise.  
  
--------------------  
Sunday 28th September  
  
Draco woke early the next morning, having been asleep since not long after dinnertime. His leg ached, as did his head, and his throat and eyes were dry and scratchy. He hauled himself up amid the snoring of his roomates and limped into the bathroom to clean himself up.   
  
By the time he got into the shower the dried blood holding his wound closed had cracked and blood was oozing down his thigh again. He cleaned it off in the scalding hot water and wondered what the hell he was going to do... normally he conjured dressings magically but without his wand he couldn't perform magic. He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and folded it up, pressing it hard to slow the blood, then shrugged on his bathrobe and went back to his bed. He couldn't go to Madame Pomfrey, even if she didn't ask akward questions, and she would, she would heal it completely and that defeated part of the purpose. It had to heal normally, otherwise it wouldn't leave a scar.   
  
As he contemplated what he could use as a makeshift bandage he studied his other scars. There were an assortment of fine traceries on his body, most were from shallower cuts and would eventually disappear, some would not. The one on his chest just above his heart would never leave him, which was good because it had a purpose. Like all his permanant scars it was a reminder. This one said, don't ever forget that Voldemort is evil. It was one of the few scars that was not self-inflicted.   
  
The one still bleeding on his thigh said, don't forget that you are capable of evil too. It also said, don't forget that you did that to Harry. Don't forget that you don't deserve his friendship. Don't forget how betraying him made you feel. The cut was deep, almost the deepest he had ever made. There was only one deeper, a livid scar that still glowed red against the skin of his lower belly. When he'd made that one a part of him had wanted to sink the knife in further and rip out everything. Maybe he should have. It said.... a better person would have died first.  
  
Finally he ripped up one of his shirts and used it to bandage his leg. It wasn't very impressive looking but it would have to do. Then he dressed and headed up for breakfast, the empty ache in his stomach was comforting but he knew he should eat something.  
  
The Great Hall was virtually empty when he limped in, it was Sunday after all and he was up pretty early. But breakfast was served more casually on the weekends due to the lack of classes. He was slowly forcing his way through a few slices of toast and some tea when Harry arrived in the Hall. He was alone. Draco closed his eyes with dull acceptance, of course Harry would just happen to come early and alone to breakfast on the very day when Draco really couldn't deal with seeing him.  
  
"Hi, is it okay if I sit with you? Hall's pretty empty this time of the morning."  
  
Draco opened his eyes and nodded. "Sure, why not," he answered hollowly.  
  
Harry grabbed some toast and looked him over. "Are you okay? You look kinda... well you look terrible actually."  
  
"Thanks. I really needed to hear that. I'm fine, I just didn't sleep very well. What are you doing up so early?"  
  
"Dunno. I just woke up and didn't feel tired any more so I thought I'd come down for breakfast. Miss the rush." He laughed cheerily. There was never a rush on Sundays, in fact half the school skipped breakfast altogether on Sundays. "I saw Ron yesterday, he was awake. He's pretty mad at you but he's getting better faster than Madame Pomfrey expected. She said he'd probably be able to go to class by Tuesday or Wednesday."  
  
"That's great."  
  
"Yup." In the time it had taken Harry to tell him that much he had already eaten twice what Draco had in the last half hour. "I told Hermione that we talked and things are okay between us but she's still pretty mad at you too. I think she blames herself for Ron getting hurt, you know cause she fell out with him over talking to you."  
  
Simply sitting next to Harry seemed to be draining the energy out of him. His thigh was really starting to ache again and his toast tasted like cardboard in his mouth. He desperately wanted to talk to Harry, about anything... about everything. But the Potion of Influence was undoubtably still in effect, the initial 24 hours was not yet up, and how could he say anything to him when he knew that. On the other hand he could ask Harry to help him with his leg, if he told Harry it was an accident he would accept it as true. Then he could get it cleaned and bound properly and not need to worry about it getting infected or something. Not that it wouldn't serve him right if it did. But still...  
  
"Potter, can I ask a favour?  
  
"Sure, what is it?"  
  
"I... hurt my leg this morning. It's nothing serious, it's just that without my wand I can't conjure any dressings."  
  
"Why didn't you go to Madame Pomfrey?"  
  
Draco thought quickly. "She's still mad at me about Weasley." A weak excuse but until the potion wore off around lunchtime Harry would believe anything he told him. "Would you take a look at it for me?"  
  
"Of course. Here?"  
  
"No, we should go somewhere private. Are you done eating?"  
  
Harry looked down at his half eaten breakfast and shrugged, "Sure. Where do you want to go?"  
  
"Follow me." Draco stood up without his usual grace and bit his lip hard as he stepped over the bench. Then, limping slightly, he led Harry down to the storage room he had made the potion in.  
  
Sitting down an an old trunk he lifted up the hem of his robes to reveal the blood-stained strips of cloth covering his left thigh.  
  
Harry gaped open mouthed as Draco folded back his robes to a positively scandalous height revealing long tanned legs marred only by the ragged attempt at a bandage.  
  
Draco, mistaking Harry's expression, repeated, "The cut's not serious, it just bled a lot."  
  
Harry tried to pull himself back together and knelt down to undo the makeshift bandage. When he got closer he realised that this wasn't the only blemish, close up he could see the pale traceries of several other scars along the other boy's thighs. He ran his fingers over them without thinking, unable to see the effect this caress had on Draco's expression. He removed the bandage and aiming his wand at the wound said, "Abluto Cruor." The blood vanished from the wound leaving it clean and visible. He studied it and the other scars nearby. //It's not serious,// he thought, despite the fact that it clearly was. //But how did he manage to cut himself there... and all these other scars... it's almost as if...// He looked up at Draco. "How long have you been doing this?" he asked.  
  
"What?" Draco looked startled, as if he hadn't expected Harry to be able to put two and two together to make four.  
  
"I'm not a complete idiot, Malfoy. How long have you been cutting yourself up and why the hell would you even start?"   
  
Harry looked really upset. He had to tell him something, another lie. But he couldn't seem to make his mouth open to tell another lie that Harry would only believe because he had drugged him. He just stared into those green eyes in horror and they stared back at him with pity, and Harry's hands were still resting on his thighs, his thumbs unconsciously moving in a repetitive and soothing caress. There was a strange feeling in his chest and throat, an aching pain, and for a moment he thought he was having some sort of heart attack. Then a sob burst from his mouth and he felt the heat of tears on his cheeks. For a moment he felt as if he were just a spectator to his body's visceral reaction. //I'm crying,// he thought. //That can't be right, I don't cry.// But he was sliding off the trunk into a heap on the ground, his head falling down into Harry's lap as he curled around himself and he couldn't think anymore as he wept out everything that he had been unable to bleed out of his body.  
  
Completely bewildered Harry did the only thing he could think to do and wrapped his arms around the crying boy, resting his head on Draco's back. He stroked his sides and gabbled whatever came into his head that he thought might help. "I'm sorry, it's okay, it doesn't matter, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."  
  
Through his tears he heard Draco gasp, "Don't say that, don't apologise to me. Please don't apologise to me."  
  
"Then tell me," he answered. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"I can't," Draco whispered. "I can't, I can't, I can't, I can't..."  
  
So Harry simply rocked him until the tears finally slowed. They seemed to leave him empty inside and he slumped against Harry like a puppet with its strings cut as Harry propped him against the trunk, retrieved his wand and magically sealed and bound the cut on Draco's leg. Then he sat up and studied Draco's pale face, wondering what he should do now.  
  
Unexpectedly Draco spoke, though his eyes stayed downcast. "I didn't think you would realise," he said hoarsely. "No-one else ever realised, or if they did they never said. Maybe they just didn't care..." He didn't seem to be talking to Harry, more to himself.  
  
"Why?" asked Harry again.  
  
Draco looked at him now. "You wouldn't understand."  
  
"You're right, I probably wouldn't," Harry answered automatically.  
  
Horror and self-loathing again crossed Draco's features and he pulled himself away from Harry. "I have to go, you have to go."  
  
"I suppose I do," agreed Harry. "Maybe you should go lie down for a bit or something. I feel like I need a bit of a rest myself."  
  
Draco turned to leave.  
  
"But if you want to talk, about anything... just let me know."  
  
Draco disappeared out the door, leaving Harry sitting on the stone floor.  
  
--------------  
Monday 29th Sept  
  
Monday dawned on a very confused Harry Potter. He had expected this year to be difficult but it was turning out to be for completely different reasons from those he had prepared himself for. He had expected to be constantly aware of the absense of Cedric Diggory, not the presence of Draco Malfoy. He had expected constant worry about Voldemort and what awful events would overtake him next in the fight against him. Instead all had been quiet on that front and his fights all seemed to be emotional, battling his own feelings and desires. It were as if the changes in Malfoy had infected Harry and his group of friends and he felt to blame for that. It was his perverse interest in Malfoy that had drawn the Slytherin into their lives. His desire to reach out to him that had inspired Hermione to do the same. Mind you he wasn't taking the fall for what had happened to Ron, Hermione could blame herself if she wanted to but as far as Harry was concerned it was Ron's own damn fault he'd got hexed. All the Weasley's were hot tempered but Draco hadn't done a thing to provoke him this term.   
  
Which led him back to wondering what the hell was going on with Draco. The change in personality, the scars, the crying... Harry felt seriously out of his depth. Draco obviously needed help with something but he had no idea how to help him. He couldn't even sort out his own problems, couldn't even comfort a crying friend without getting turned on by the physical contact. How fucked up was that.  
  
----------------  
  
Draco had slept dreamlessly again for the second night in a row but did not feel the better for it. He woke up early, again, feeling hollow and dehydrated. He was still tired but he knew it was just because he'd overslept. He'd in fact slept just about twenty four hours around the clock having gone back to bed as soon as he'd left Harry yesterday morning. Everytime he'd woken he'd decided he simply couldn't face anyone, he had absolutely no desire to be anywhere but hidden in his bed. The psychology books he'd read had said crying was good, that it was cathartic. He'd assumed that if he could do it he would feel better but instead he felt completely destroyed. It was as if something were broken inside of him. Maybe something had left him as he'd wept, something that had been sustaining him, making him able to function. And now it was gone and he didn't think he could survive without it.  
  
Now he understood why his father had said it was a sign of weakness. It made you weak, it left you defenceless. His father had been right. What else had his father been right about?  
  
Draco grasped for something to rebuild himself around. He looked down at himself, remembering more of his fathers advice. Give the appearance of strength and you will have strength.  
  
He hauled himself out of bed, shivering with more than the cold, and proceeded to rebuild his defenses. Starting with his appearance. An hour later he stood in front of the mirror in one of his most expensive sets of plain robes, wearing his finest boots and with his hair styled immaculately. He drew himself up and forced an expression of cold confidence onto his face and then let the reflection in the mirror persuade him that was really how he felt. He was Draco Malfoy, all of this emotional teenage crap was beneath him. He was Draco Malfoy.  
  
With that he swept out of the dormitory and headed for the Great Hall where he intended to eat a great deal of much needed food and get the hell on with his life. Deep inside him the broken part of him watched the stranger up above it and wondered how long this facade would stand before it cracked again.   
  
The day passed in a rush as Draco simply refused to acknowledge anything that threatened his carefully managed poise. He travelled through Hogwarts like a frozen bubble, hard and brittle and empty inside. He occasionally caught sight of Harry but made a point of acknowledging him and then rushing off as if he were extremely busy. Polite but distant. He had a feeling that if he could just get through today he might be able to get through the rest of his life, all it would take was a determination not to feel anything. Discipline. His father's watchword had always been discipline. Control. When he felt a moment of weakness he would repeat that to himself, //Discipline and control. Discipline and control. A Malfoy does not acknowledge weakness.//  
  
Towards the end of his last class a student came by with a message for him. He was to go to Professor Dumbledore's office after dinner. A moment of shock and fear ran through him but he quashed it. Sheer paranoia, of course Dumbledore didn't know what had happened yesterday. This was most likely about his upcoming apology to Weasley and the month of detention he was yet to start.  
  
------------------  
  
As Harry had been about to leave Transfiguration that afternoon, Professor McGonagall had stopped him and informed him that Professor Dumbledore wished to speak to him during his free period before dinner.  
  
So now he stood outside the Headmaster's office, waiting and wondering why he was there. He couldn't think of anything that he had done that might lead to him being called to see Dumbledore. He began to worry that perhaps something had happened to Sirius.  
  
Finally the door opened and he was ushered in. He sat down and waited anxiously for Professor Dumbledore to explain what was going on.  
  
"Ah, Harry. Would you like some tea?"  
  
Harry shook his head nervously.  
  
"Dear me, you look positively terrified. There's nothing to worry about," said Dumbledore gently. "I just thought we might have a little chat. See how everything's going."  
  
Oh," said Harry, momentarily relieved and then slightly concerned. "You haven't been talking to Hermione have you?"  
  
"Miss Granger? No, do you think I should?"  
  
"No!" Harry lowered his panicked tone. "No, it's nothing. Forget I said that."  
  
"Very well. You do seem rather worried about something, though. Anything I can help you with?"  
  
"No, I'm fine, really."  
  
"Not worried about Mr Weasley?"  
  
"No, I saw him at lunchtime. He's looking a lot better. Madame Pomfrey says he might be back to classes tomorrow."  
  
"Indeed, yes. Young Mr Weasley appears to have a strong constitution. Nasty Disanimation Curse like that can take weeks to get over."  
  
"Disanimation Curse? That's what Malfoy used?"  
  
"Indeed he did. Standard dark arts attack, often used when they don't have the energy for the killing curse. Less taxing."  
  
"By they... you mean Death Eaters."  
  
"Yes," Dumbledore looked grave. "Tell me, Harry. Why do you think Mr Malfoy has suddenly decided to befriend you?"  
  
Harry frowned, thinking back over his conversations with Draco. "I don't know. He said... when I asked him why he was being nice he said something about having an eye-opening experience this summer. But I don't know what it was."  
  
"And you're not concerned about his ... connections?"  
  
"I know his father's a Death Eater but that doesn't make Malfoy one. Look at my relatives, they brought me up and I'm nothing like them. Malfoy's... changed." Harry thought about what had happened yesterday morning. "Actually, I am worried about him. But not because I think he's working for Voldemort."  
  
"What are you worried about?"  
  
"I...." Harry looked torn. "I'm not sure I can tell you, it would be... it's private. To Malfoy I mean, I know he wouldn't want me to go talking about it with anyone."  
  
"Loyalty is an excellent trait, Harry. I hope it is not misplaced in this case. I also hope that if you do know anything which could be important, to the fight against Voldemort or to the safety of another student, you will not let loyalty stop you from informing me at once." Dumbledore sat back and sighed. "Goodness me, everything seems so fraught with tension these days. I think I shall have to take a nice long bubble bath tonight. I wonder where I put my rubber ducky."  
  
Harry goggled at the thought of Dumbledore in a showercap, playing with a rubber ducky. "Can I go now?" he asked.  
  
"Of course, Harry. If there's nothing else you want to talk about?"  
  
Harry wasn't aware he had wanted to talk about anything at all so he shook his head.  
  
"Very well, off you run. Give Mr Weasley my regards if you see him and tell him I shall be along to visit him tomorrow lunchtime."  
  
"Okay. Bye then." Harry got up and left.  
  
-----------------  
  
Draco entered the Headmaster's office with no visible qualms and settled himself in the available chair.  
  
"Mr Malfoy, we meet again."  
  
Draco met his gaze steadily but after a moment found he couldn't hold it and looked to the floor.  
  
"You will start your detention this evening, two hours a day after dinner until the 29th of October. Your first detention and all following Monday evening detentions will be here with me. Professor McGonagall will arrange for the rest of them and let you know where to be."  
  
Draco nodded.  
  
"So, whatever are we going to talk about for the next two hours, Mr Malfoy?"  
  
Draco looked up, startled, "What? I thought... don't you have some job for me to do?"  
  
"I thought we might just have a little chat instead, I do hate to work on a full stomach. Gives me terrible wind, don't you find?"  
  
Draco just stared at him.  
  
"Why don't you tell me where you learned that curse you used on Mr Weasley, it certainly isn't taught here."  
  
Draco had a terrible sinking feeling inside. Two hours of enforced conversation with Professor Dumbledore was bound to lead to him saying something he regretted. Maybe he should just refuse to talk... but he found he didn't really want to sit there projecting a stony wall of silence. The room was warm and comfortable and he got so little chance to talk to anyone these days. The headmaster had understood about not telling his father, maybe he could trust him a little. It was worth a shot. "My father taught it to me."  
  
"I thought as much. Does he teach you often?"  
  
"He... this summer he felt that it was time I started to learn about... that sort of thing. Sometimes he teaches me, sometimes other people."  
  
"But he still allowed you to return here, rather than send you to one of the more... Dark Arts friendly schools? Durmstrang for instance. I hear they have a new headmaster."  
  
Draco stared out the window and said quietly, "You don't trust me do you, you think I'm here as a spy for my father."  
  
"Are you?" Dumbledore asked in a incongruously friendly tone.  
  
"I don't know," answered Draco after a long time. "If I said yes would you ask me to leave?"  
  
"I am not going to ask you to leave here, Draco," Dumbledore said gently. "In fact I have come to the decision that leaving here would be extremely bad for you."  
  
"Why's that?" Draco asked sharply.  
  
Dumbledore smiled enigmatically. "I think you can answer that better than I can."  
  
Draco frowned. "Are you always like that?"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Never mind." Draco sighed. "I presume you expect me to give you information or something."  
  
"I try to presume very little, but if you have information that may help me I would be most grateful to hear it."  
  
Draco stared out the window again and scuffed his foot against the carpet. "I'll think about it, I probably don't know anything useful anyway."  
  
"We know very little about the whereabouts and movements of Lord Voldemort since he returned at the end of last term. Nothing but rumours. Anything you could tell us would be helpful."  
  
"I don't know where he is," said Draco truthfully. After all he didn't know where Voldemort was right now and he didn't care, he realised he was scratching at the scar on his chest and tucked his hands back into his lap. "When will I get my wand back?" he asked, changing the subject.  
  
"When I feel you are ready, when I feel I can trust you to think before you use it."  
  
"I can't do half my classes properly, my father will be angry if I fail my exams. He'll be angry if he even finds out you've confiscated my wand."  
  
"That is a bridge you will have to cross, Mr Malfoy. It is not up for discussion."  
  
"Well that's just fantastic," said Draco in annoyance. "So we only get to talk about what you want to talk about then? I think that makes this an interrogation not a chat!"  
  
"I find you quite fascinating, Mr Malfoy. Do you know there is not a single other student I can think of who would speak to me in that tone."  
  
Draco scowled at him sullenly.  
  
"I also don't think you would have done so a year ago. If you won't tell me what has caused you to change, perhaps you might tell me how you have changed. I find it remarkably difficult to figure out what is going on inside your head and that bothers me."  
  
"Well it doesn't bother me," snapped Draco. "It's my head and I don't need anyone else knowing what goes on inside it."  
  
"What are you so angry about?"  
  
"Nothing. I don't know." He picked something randomly, something that seemed safe. "Weasley."  
  
"Ah, yes, Mr Weasley. That seems as good a place to start as any. Why are you angry at Mr Weasley?"  
  
Draco jumped out of his chair and began to pace a bit. "It's just. What's the point in trying to change when no-one will let you? Everything would be so much easier if I was the same person I was last year, if I wanted the same things."  
  
"And what things did you want last year?"  
  
"To join..." Draco caught himself, "...stuff. Pass my exams, win the Quidditch Cup, make the Gryffindor's lives as miserable as possible."  
  
"And now?"  
  
Draco wandered over to the window and stared out into the growing twilight. "I don't know... to be able to start again? Not to be a Slytherin, not to be a Malfoy... not to be me."  
  
"Who would you be?"  
  
"I don't know. Me, but not me."  
  
"Tell me how I can help you, Draco," Dumbledore asked softly.  
  
"No-one can help me," he answered. Almost unaware he was talking to someone, least of all Dumbledore. "No-one can change any of this."  
  
"How very pessimistic of you."  
  
Draco spun around as if suddenly realising he had been talking too freely. "I mean... I don't need help. I'm fine."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Tell me, Draco. When was the last time you asked for help when you needed it."  
  
Draco thought about yesterday morning and for a moment he felt that ache in his chest again. He quickly pulled himself upright, settling his features back in that familiar and comforting expression of cold confidence.  
  
Dumbledore studied him silently for a long time and then said, "I think that will do for today. You will meet me outside the hospital wing tomorrow after lunch to apologise to Mr Weasley, I believe you have a free period?" Draco nodded stiffly. "You may go now, Mr Malfoy."  
  
Draco strode haughtily out of the office and continued outside to the lake where he sat for a long time looking out over the water and burying his feelings back inside himself. The cold seemed to help.  
  
--------------  
tbc 


End file.
